Though it Never be so Homely
by Allekha
Summary: (Orenchi no Furo Jijou) It's not like Wakasa wanted to live in such a filthy river. It's just that the better spots were taken.


A/N: Written for Sumi for Parallels 2015.

* * *

There comes a time, for all of the merfolk, when they have a choice to make: either settle down in their own home near their birthplace and begin looking for a mate, or to leave for other waters far away. No-one is surprised when Wakasa chooses the latter.

His mother – a patient woman with a lined face and the same golden hair he inherited – had always despaired at how interested he is in the land-dwellers and their lifestyle. It is typical, of course, for merfolk children to sneak up on beaches to watch the humans, or to dare each other to touch the ships that throw out those dangerous nets, but Wakasa never grew out of it. At least, she could comfort herself saying, he didn't wax lyrical about their legs, as if he wanted to shapeshift, but only ever pined after their culture.

The day Wakasa leaves, they eat his favorite fish and sea grapes for breakfast, and his friends make him a crown of kelp as a going-away present. And then they see him off, wondering if Wakasa's youthful obsession will eventually fade, or if he is gone away forever.

~!~

Finding a new place to live isn't easy, and not because Wakasa is picky: all of the good places are taken already.

A lake like Tazawa would be nice – the water is beautiful, there is plenty of room, and the fact that it never freezes completely is a bonus. But while the two seahorses that live there already, a girlfriend and boyfriend, tolerate his visit, they make it clear that he is not to stay. He tells himself that he wouldn't _want_ to live there anyway, with how wrapped up those two are in each other. Who would want to live as a permanent third wheel to a relationship?

It seems like more towns are close to rivers than to good lakes. Unfortunately, the good rivers are usually far from civilization (and taken by overly-territorial folk already) and the ones with humans living nearby are typically choked with pollution (and often taken _anyway_ ). He stays a few nights here and a few nights there. He pretends not to notice the annoyance of his hosts, and instead ramps up his charm to make them agree to let him stay a little while.

He tries the ocean for several months. Lots of humans live on the coast, and folks living out there are less tetchy about personal space. He stays in Takasu's cave for a few weeks, and they venture out to watch the humans together some days. But while the people-watching is good, the access to their food and magazines isn't. And Wakasa isn't nearly the only one with the idea to live by the beaches – the waters are practically crowded, to the point that finding a good view without being spotted is almost impossible when the weather was good.

Wakasa considers trying a different landmass – one of the smaller islands, perhaps, where the humans might panic less easily at the sight of merfolk. But, well, something about the cities of the larger island draws him in. The humans there are just so much more _exciting_.

So Wakasa bids good-bye to Takasu and heads back inland to search again. It takes him weeks, sorting through streams already claimed by possessive folk and canals too dirty to consider, before he finds a bit of river all for his own. The section is dammed up, so the folk that prefer more free-flowing water wouldn't live there, and the water is pretty dirty, but maybe he can live with it.

It's far from ideal, but it's a home.

~!~

The first few months are terrible. Wakasa knows that it gets cold in the winter, but he isn't prepared for _how_ cold the surface gets. With no-one to curl up with and no place to curl into, he ends up doing meaningless, exhausting laps just to warm up. Then he can doze for twenty minutes when he's tired, before he cools off too much and wakes up again from the chill. Eventually, at least, he gets into the rhythm of it. Laps, rest, laps, nap, laps, eat, laps, rest. It keeps him going.

The waterweeds grow too much here, without enough fish around to eat them down. If he isn't careful, they get stuck in his mouth, awful slimy things entirely unlike proper cultivated seaweed. Even worse is the trash the humans carelessly throw in when they walk by the water – trash bags that tangle his arms, bottles and cans that he keeps smacking his head into, papers that clog the surface (though at least those are interesting to read).

But as winter passes into spring, things get a bit better. The water warms and the flowers come out; in what the humans call April, small white-pink flowers Wakasa has never seen before carpet the water, not papers. The humans come out more often, too – it seems they dislike the cold as much as he does. They hold hands on their walks and linger on the edge of the water, talking to each other. Sometimes they leave food behind by accident, which Wakasa is quick to take care of. Who knew that their foods had such a wide range of tastes and textures?

In the summer more young people come by – a small group of them even come to clean up the river a few times, pulling out the bags and bottles and papers and disposing of them properly. From under the surface, Wakasa blows them all a thank-you kiss and wishes them well. The water is pleasant and warm, now, though it turns out that this is as true for algae as it is for merfolk. The river, in its slower sections, turns green and sour, and muck grows up the concrete of the dam. It makes it hard to see, and a couple of times, he almost gets caught because he didn't see someone before coming up to the surface. The algae dies off a bit in the fall, as kids drop roasted chestnuts into the water to watch them float.

~!~

The other real problem with the river is that there aren't many places for him to hide. Not that Wakasa would _mind_ humans knowing about his existence, but the chattering of kids coming just to look for him is annoying. Speculating on whether or not he's sentient or a monster, whether he can talk to the fish, whether he eats fish or algae or human food... it's annoying.

The warnings his parents used to give him all the time – about the terrible things humans could do if they discovered a merfolk – ring in his ears, and as troublesome as it is, he decides that maybe he should move. Not away from the humans, no – he still wants to try a proper hamburger after all, and those cute little cake things in the magazine ads. But maybe if he's just a little more careful next time...

So he leaves while the water is still a little bit warm – maybe he can find someplace with a hot water output next time? That would be nice.

Except the water is still green and murky with algae, and perhaps he's not really paying attention, because what kind of idiot manages to swim right into a bunch of reeds? Which then proceed to stab near his eyes and tangle in his hair, which makes it _really_ hard to see anything, let alone where the water is. He fights against the plants for what feels like ages, losing more than a few scales and strands of hair in the process. Unfortunately, when he emerges, it's not into the water. It's onto the land. And he's already starting to dry out.

He's not going to meet his end like this, is he? Drowning in the dry air? How embarrassing...

"Are you alright?" He opens his eyes. They're drying out, too, and he can't see very well, but someone – a human – in dark clothes is kneeling by him.

Oh, well. His parents' stories were just stories, right? "I... I need water..."


End file.
